Beijing Olympics were logistically successful — and sneaky too

BEIJING -- There are more than a billion people in this country, but I wouldn't capture my Olympic experience here until I was alone.

At least, I thought I was alone.

It was a quiet weekday afternoon, I was hustling through the quiet lobby of our military-owned hotel, taking an empty elevator up to the 16th floor, walking down an empty hallway, ducking into my empty room to pack for my next assignment.

Five minutes later, the hotel phone rang.

"Your door is open," said a voice.

Click.

I looked at the phone. I looked at my door. It is dark oak. The frame is dark oak. There is no obvious crack. How could anyone tell it was open?

I touched it. By maybe one inch, it was open.

That somebody at the hotel knew my door was open meant only one thing:

Somebody had been following me.

I walked outside looking for this person, up and down the hallway, but nobody was there.

I rode back downstairs, planning to confront the manager about a lack of privacy, when I was greeted in the lobby by a smiling worker. And another one. And another one.

By the time I had taken 10 steps, five employees have called out to me, asked how I was doing, smiling and waving to me.

By the time I reached the front desk, I felt so foolish and paranoid, I shrugged and returned to my room.

This, it turns out, was the sum of my Beijing Olympic experience. And in this, I am certain I am not alone.

When the torch is passed to London at the closing ceremony today, the Games will be remembered as the most technically, logistically successful in history.

They will also be remembered as the sneakiest.

But the locals have been so unfailingly pleasant and polite about it, we will just shrug and return to our rooms.

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In three weeks I have grown to love this city, with its ancient neighborhoods and stately boulevards, with its temples next to tobacco stores, with its tree-lined river walks and rolling city parks.